


One Clear Day (OCD)

by Rxchello



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Artist Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Keith is Lances Rock, Light Angst, Light OCD Trigger, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, One Shot, Revelations, Self-Indulgent, Waiting, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rxchello/pseuds/Rxchello
Summary: “And I’d wait ten more years if I had to. This is all temporary even in a long-term sense,” Keith reached across the table and wiped a stray tear off the Cuban's cheek with his thumb. “Your mind will stable out. You’ll learn to resist your rituals. And I plan to be by your side through all of it. You’ll be able to run free again one day.”Lance did miss the smell of the ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he left town without having to turn back in a panic.“And where will be be running to?” Lance questioned, not ready for the string of admissions coming from Keith’s mouth to end.“I haven’t thought that far,” Keith shrugged, leaning over and lifting one of the approaching cats into his lap. “All I know is it’ll be a big thing even if we end up in the middle of nowhere,” Lance watched Keith’s eyes wander in thought. “No checking locked doors, no pacing the house grazing fingertips over light switches. We’ll just pack up and go. Never look back.”





	One Clear Day (OCD)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a bit ago when I was adjusting to new meds. The triggers and experiences written for Lance in this reflect off of my own. Everyone's OCD, anxiety, etc is different, so don't take this as the -only- representation of it.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

_ For better, for worse, _

_ In sickness and in health, _

_ To love and to cherish, _

_ Til’ death do us part. _

 

They were words Keith had yet to vow to Lance, however, they seemed prominent in his thoughts ever since he promised his time to the frantic Cuban currently scurrying through the kitchen as if it was a minefield. Dishes were retrieved with two fingers in a daintily fashion. The fridge door was opened and closed three times before his boyfriend was satisfied with witnessing the bulb inside turn off. Their breakfast was plated with such precision that if Lance didn’t do it compulsively, Keith would suggest he should open a restaurant with Hunk. And though it was an odd sight that most couldn’t fathom in their minds, Keith had witnessed the reality that Lance McClain lived in for so long it was only a matter of time before he realized he was the rock the younger man would use for stability when his mind went haywire. 

“Lance,” Keith called from the dining room table “Everything’s fine. Come sit with me.” He knew it would be easier to go into the kitchen and walk the Cuban out with their plates, but he also knew that would be enabling his problem and setting him back.

“Everything’s off?” Lance’s lip quivered as he paused his plating.

“Yes.” Stern statement with a gentle tone of understanding.

“Locked?”

“Yes, even though we aren’t leaving the house yet.”

“Good?” 

The logic was ignored.

“Yes. Come on.”

The questions were like a mantra Lance sputtered through, sometimes with tears, that he repeated until Keith’s responses clicked in his head and he was able to move on. Lance carefully balanced two plates on his arm along with two mugs of tea, placing everything in a specific spot between them before he took a seat and looked his porcelain-toned boyfriend in the eye.

“I’m sorry.” The look on Lance’s face when he apologized was still an enigma to Keith despite seeing it daily for years. He couldn’t tell if he was apologizing to Keith or himself, but the look of relief on Lance’s face after Keith gave him a reassuring smile was one he’d rather see under better circumstances.

_ In due time. _

\-  - - - - - - - -

Lance was starting treatment for his OCD. 

It was a statement he’d repeat to himself every morning to cement the fact. His medication would be slowly increasing until he was stable enough for cognitive therapy. It would be a slow process-he’d suffered for years without help to the point of physical symptoms. But here he was, looking at his main support system while eating his breakfast in a specific order. Carbs, protein, fruit or vegetable. Repeated every meal, subject to meltdown if not followed. The physical symptoms such as dizziness and chest pains when doing his rituals had gone away with the start of the pills, but there was one boulder that was stuck in his mind like a leech-

_ Burden. _

He may have been improving over time, but he wasn’t blind. He saw the indigo bags under Keith’s eyes emphasized by his pale skin. He noticed how the older man always moved about their apartment with a cautious step. Keith deserved better. Yet Keith was stubborn. It was the only conclusion Lance could come to when trying to figure out why Keith continued to stay and respond to his rituals.

Too stubborn to leave. Too guilt-ridden to turn away. It was in no way Keith’s fault--it was a genetic mental illness. He never took the opportunity Lance offered him to leave with a stride.

“Can I ask you a question?” He didn’t want to. The answer shined through a gaze hidden under a thick mop of raven-colored bangs.

“Of course.” But Lance knew Keith would put up with the insecure charade regardless.

“Why are you still here?” It’d pour out like a waterfall. “You need a break. Rest. A better situation. I can’t keep being a burden on your shoulders!”

“But you aren’t. That’s why I’m still here.” It was weak reassurance, but as much as Keith could provide given his struggle with words.

“Or because you feel it’s an obligation. I know you weren’t driven away the first few months but we’re approaching almost three years now. Surely all of this is taking a toll on you as well.”

“It’ll never compare to what you’re going through,” Keith fiddled with the spoon in his mug. “And I’d think three years would speak to that.”

“Or just make you crazier than I am.” Lance snorted from behind his mug.

“You aren’t crazy.”

_ Says the king of self-deprecation _ , Lance thought to himself.

“You’re sick,” Keith continued like it was news to either of them. “And you’re treating it. It’d be a different story if you were complacent, but you’re not.” The vow danced through his head again. 

“I may as well be,” Lance sulked in his chair. “I’m still doing like 98% of my strange rituals--”

“They aren’t strange-” The hidden exhaustion in Keith’s voice caused Lance’s jaw to tense.

“You’d think they were if you didn’t witness my charades daily.” Keith winced at how Lance described his compulsions. “But that’s besides the point.”

“What is your point, then?” Keith couldn’t help his resort to a venom-laced tone when he felt helpless.

“You need to leave me. You can’t keep being my rock. You’re like a ship and I’m an anchor-”

“Ships willingly drop anchors to remain in the place they want to be-”

“Stop trying to spin everything I say into something positive!” Lance dropped his fork on his plate, the clatter causing their sleeping cats to stir on the couch. “Aren’t you supposed to be the pessimistic one? When did we switch roles?”

Keith had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out. This wasn’t Lance. This was a young man from Cuba under distress due to a mental illness he suppressed for years.

So instead of arguing to get through the field the anxiety built up, Keith simply pursed his lips as his eyes took in the broken sight in front of him while admiring the beauty hidden behind it.

It came to him as he remembered the last time he saw a pleading look on Lance’s face.

“Remember when you were going through your phase of self-discovery and I told you I’d wait for you while you were with Allura?”

Lance could only blind at the sudden change in conversation. “That feels like it was so long ago.”

“This is the same thing.” Then Lance sighed.

“Keith-”

“I waited for you once. You taught me patience, really.”

“ _ Keith- _ ”

“And I’d wait ten more years if I had to. This is all temporary even in a long-term sense,” Keith reached across the table and wiped a stray tear off the Cuban's cheek with his thumb. “Your mind will stable out. You’ll learn to resist your rituals. And I plan to be by your side through all of it. You’ll be able to run free again one day.”

Lance did miss the smell of the ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he left town without having to turn back in a panic.

“And where will be be running to?” Lance questioned, not ready for the string of admissions coming from Keith’s mouth to end.

“I haven’t thought that far,” Keith shrugged, leaning over and lifting one of the approaching cats into his lap. “All I know is it’ll be a big thing even if we end up in the middle of nowhere,” Lance watched Keith’s eyes wander in thought. “No checking locked doors, no pacing the house grazing fingertips over light switches. We’ll just pack up and go. Never look back.”

Lance couldn’t help the subtle laugh that escaped his lips, the sincerity in Keith’s words muffled by his aggressive scratching behind their purring cat’s ears.

“You promise?” It was the only response Lance could think of.

“I promise.”

Lance only checked the front lock twice as they left for work that day.

\- - - - - - - - - 

Two years was better than ten in Lance’s mind.

He gently lined the edges of the small case with tissue paper as he tucked the gifts in the center, zipping the top shut and carrying it behind his back as he walked into the living room. HE was greeted with the sight of Keith walking through the front door, their two cats circling his feet and almost sending him into the floor.

“Thanks for calling your guard cats off,” Keith quipped, his grin softening as he watched Lance bounce on the balls of his feet.

“They’re your guard cats too. They just missed you!” Lance gleamed, stepping back as Keith approached him. “I did too.”

“And I missed you,” Keith gave Lance a quick peck on the lips before trying to see what was behind Lance’s back. “But I’m a little curious what’s back there.”

“Back where?” Lance asked, turning and raising the item above his head. “Here?” He shook his hips teasingly at the shorter man.

“Lance!” Keith playfully smacked Lance’s behind as he tried to reach for the item in his hands. “What is it?” Lance shook it above Keith’s head a beat more before he sighed, his fingers tapping on the top of it timidly before bringing it back down between them.

“It’s a gift.” Keith’s eyes widened at the sight of what Lance was hiding.

_ A toy suitcase. _

He cracked a smile as he took the case from the taller man’s hands, observing the soft velvet features.

“I know I’m a bit shorter than you,” Keith looked up at Lance accusingly. “But this is too small for me.” 

Keith flinched as Lance smacked a hand on his own forehead.

“That’s not the gift!” Lance threw his hands in the air, flabbergasted at his boyfriend’s ignorance. “That’s just what I wrapped it in. Open it!” LAnce guided the tiny zipper into Keith’s hands, the hot-head opening the suitcase and sucking in a gasp.

Inside was a small canvas painting of a black wolf with bright teal decal on it’s fur. It was the creature Keith came up with in one of his many short stories he wrote in his free time. Alongside it was a mug that had miniature paintings of Keith, Lance, and their two cats surrounded by a heart. It was all beautiful, but what really got Keith was the sticky note that was stuck to the top of the inside:

[I promise.]

“We’ll just pack up and go, right?” Lance recited from behind the lid of the suitcase. It was a statement he’d held onto since it came from Keith’s mouth long ago.

“You’re sure?” Tears were forming in Keith’s eyes, his look of awe almost sending Lance into a tearful spiral as well. 

“My psychiatrist and therapist said they would give me a list of recommended replacement specialists once I let them know where we’re going.” Keith placed the suitcase on their coffee table as he took Lance’s face into his hands.

“Then I guess we’re going.” Keith smirked as he threw his arms around Lance’s neck, kissing him deeply.

“I love you.” Lance breathed out as he looked Keith in the eye.

“I love you too.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> www.twitter.com/rxchello


End file.
